


AU of I guess the rest of f’ing canon because I did an AU of The Empty Hearse scene that pissed me off and fixed it but now I got to just fix the rest of canon now too wtf why am I like this

by Ukthxbye



Series: AUs of The Empty Hearse [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Greg Lestrade, BAMF Molly Hooper, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Hangover, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Mary Ships It, Mild Language, Molly Hooper/Mary Morstan Friendship, Morning After, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Relationship Discussions, Romantic Comedy, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukthxbye/pseuds/Ukthxbye
Summary: Molly and Sherlock properly kissed and headed to dinner but that is just the beginning of the changes. Molly wakes up the morning after and she and Sherlock are surprised by what they recall from the night before.





	AU of I guess the rest of f’ing canon because I did an AU of The Empty Hearse scene that pissed me off and fixed it but now I got to just fix the rest of canon now too wtf why am I like this

 

Morning sunlight peaks through curtains and slowly shifts through the window in Molly Hooper’s bedroom, laying across her eyes, causing her to wake enough to feel the blood slamming in her head.

 

_ Oh God _ , she thinks as she desperately tries to summon enough saliva to help her cotton-dry mouth. She only knows sensations of this immediate hangover, one she is sure that will ruin her day as she starts to feel her brain realize her state. She is afraid to move, she knows it may make everything worse. But she needs to summon the energy to get up and get some water and go to the loo. She is only focusing on basic thoughts of survival and ignoring all other details.

 

Until a rather loud grunt and shifting in the bed from Sherlock makes her brain sober up and fire on all cylinders immediately.

 

“Fuck” she whispers to herself, eyes squinting as she turns her head and blearily scans the source of the grunt.

 

“Oh, God...Oh my God” she breathes out.

 

It's all flooding back in tiny pieces of a puzzle between pulses of her headache,  but panic is rising in her throat threatening whatever contents of her stomach there may be. But she can’t be sure yet in the fog of her brain if she should be worried. I mean, after all, him being in her bed wasn’t that unusual.  _ Which maybe says something about us anyway _ , she thinks.

 

She ignores the pounding in her head and she slips out from under the duvet slowly, putting her feet down and sliding onto the floor with her back against the bedside as she sits down.

She puts her head in her hands, rubbing her face. She uses the bedside to steady herself and gets to her feet. Shuffling out the room, she makes it to the loo. More shuffling, steadying herself on walls and furniture as she makes it to her kitchen. The floor seems to move the like a carnival ride and her stomach hates it most of all. She tries to be quiet but she can’t help but clink glasses as she gets one for water. 

 

“Bloody hell” she whispers angrily. Has her flat always been this quiet? God even Toby is still sound asleep on the sofa. 

 

She starts the facet and fills the glass full. She gulps down half of it, her dry mouth feeling better but regrets that immediately as her stomach nearly vomits it back. She leans over, placing her forehead on the cold quartz countertop and feels some relief.

 

She opens her eyes, looking at her torso while her forehead sits on the counter, she notices now what she is wearing. Her eyes widen. She stares, allowing other memories to flood back. She lifts her head slowly. 

 

It’s his shirt. Grey with dark buttons. Two buttons were undone at the top just like him.  _ Oh God, he put it on me last night...morning?  _ She remembers struggling with it and he buttoned it up for her. Her cheeks flush, and her hands tremoring as she carefully lifts her glass of water for another tiny gulp.  __

 

She jumps nearly dropping her glass as Sherlock bumps into the wall in the hall, cursing. He emerges into her kitchen with her duvet cocooned around him. Only his scrunched face and wild curls poke out of the top of it. She stands frozen as he shuffles from her kettle to the sink, slowly fills in and then places it on its stand, turning it on until it beep. He then shuffles to her, his eyes are barely open. He kisses her on the top of her head suddenly, squinting only as much as needed to keep him on two feet and from bumping into anything as he walks to the sofa where he collapses, Toby jumping off in a hiss.

 

She stands in shock for a moment but the water staying in her system is clearing her mind every moment that passes. But she remembers that she has ginger tea and there is hope in it settling her stomach. Kettle done, she takes a mug down and digs in her tea box pile in the cabinet for her hopeful relief. Secured, she sets a bag in with water to steep.

 

“Do you want a cup of ginger tea?” she gently says in his direction. He makes no response so she just makes her own. After a minute to cool she risks it, and find her stomach jump but at the same time calm its insistent gnawing.

 

He shifts and coughs, adjusting himself up on a pillow more. She moves into the room, setting her mug down on the table and flopping into her armchair.  _ Ok time for some answers,  _ she ponders as she pulls her knees to her chest. 

 

“Sherlock I think we need to tal--” she begins but he cuts her off. 

 

“ Acetaldehyde” he bursts out loudly.

 

“What?” she huffs. 

 

“It's the by-product of alcohol--” he shouts but she cuts him off.

 

“I know that, Sherlock! Why are you yelling it at me?” she asks loudly and softening her voice by the end, hopefully in encouragement for him to lower   

 

He grunts, pauses, then sits up, letting the duvet fall down his arm and off his bare chest. “Sorry. My hearing and volume control are off ... Acetic acid.”

 

“Sherlock…” she says staring at him,  arms folding and irritation finding its way into her tone. 

 

He opens his eyes, locking in with hers, “We are hungover Molly and our bodies are still processing the conversions of toxins. The tannins in the wine are contribu”--he squints in obvious pain, “ting in addition to our lack of drinking water and...yes...well, other activities we participated in last night.” 

 

_ Was that a smirk?  _ she thinks and blushes. 

 

“Um, yes speaking of _ that,”  _ she begins timidly. 

 

“Later my dear, we’ll talk about it and…” he smirks with darkened eyes, “ continue those activities in a more sober state I am sure.”

 

Molly’s eyes widen at the thought and memories that are showing their way into her thoughts. She recalls them barely getting the door closed to her flat before they started disrobing. And where her hand strayed to in the cab ride. She gulps and she can see that this delights him by the licking of his bottom lip and how his eyes stray from her face. But soon his face scrunches in pain.

 

He sighs, “I gave my reasons not to talk for now though and my headache is getting worse from my jaw moving please just come over get in the duvet with me and sleep this off. ”

 

“My God, Sherlock is this how you think you are supposed to act after what happened… between us” she says nervously, unfolding her arms and pushing a strand of hair back from her face.

 

“Molly please I am begging you,” he says in a low voice. “ If I promise I’ll talk as long as you want later, will you be quiet and go back to sleep with me?”

 

Her mind races and it makes her weary. The thought of being sober and in his arms, both frightening and comforting. She takes another sip of her ginger tea, letting her stomach settle and stands.

 

“Wait, don’t you want to go back to bed? It's more comfortable,” she asks as she moves to the sofa.

  
  


“For sex later? Absolutely. For now? No. That requires standing and I believe the room is spinning a bit too much for something as dangerous as that,” he mumbles.

 

He squints and reaches his arm up, grabbing her left wrist, and pulling her to him as he shifts to make a space for her. She crawls over him awkwardly, making sure her knees don’t damage any part of him, and under the duvet, as he wraps his arm around her and she lays her head on his chest.

 

Suspicions confirmed; he is naked under the duvet. She blushes again but tries to settle her thoughts.

 

“Sherlock?…” she whispers

 

“You promised,” he whispers back.

 

And with that she stays quiet, focusing on his breathing and their combined warmth as they both drift off to sleep again. 

 

\--:--

 

Molly cracks her eyes open and then shoots up to a seat when she realizes she is by herself on the sofa. She blinks and sees Sherlock working a pan on her stove. He reaches in the cabinet and takes a plate down, and swipes eggs from the pan on it and grabs a fork from the drawer.

She cannot deny it smells heavenly as the earlier danger to her stomach has left her with sleep.

 

He looks over and smiles softly, placing the plate on the bar. 

 

“Eat, we need food before we attempt this conversation,” he gently instructs her. 

 

She obeys, digging in and feels her still lingering headache calming with each bite. 

 

Sherlock proceeds to eat his eggs directly from the pan standing at the stove.

 

Molly watches him with a cocked eyebrow but somehow it doesn’t shock her. He is wearing only a towel. Maybe that is a bit more shocking.  _ Well, I guess he’s been awake for a bit _ , she thinks. If they are indeed a couple now, she is going to look forward to this view in the morning. 

 

“Bloody hell what time is it?” she asks, unsure how long she slept.

 

If your clock on your coffee machine is correct, it is 11:30, “ he picks up his mobile and sighs. “Yes that is correct”

 

“Brunch then it is,” she mumbles out.

 

“Oh I wonder where my mobile ended up,” she asks looking around her. 

 

“Table near your door,”  he answers, caution evident in his voice, and he continues capturing her eyes for a moment.  “You might, um, want to talk before you go look at it.”

 

She sits up straight and her eyes widen a bit, asking quietly, “Why is that?”

“Just trust me on this,” he smiles a weak smile. His phone vibrates and he hurriedly types something and leaves it out of her sight on the counter.

 

She furrows her brow as he comes around the bar. He leans down and kisses her quickly on the lips at first, pulls back but returns and then deepens it. But he steps back once again and takes her hand, leading her to the sofa.

 

“Ok time to talk and see where your memories and my own meet,” he sighs.

 

She takes a deep breath, “I remember that kiss in the hall”

 

“Yes, not intentional I promise but an important piece for sure,” he smiles.

 

“We were going to dinner and...oh yeah,” she remembers Tom.

 

“You decided that honor came first,” he nods.

 

“Yes, God poor Tom! He was crying and hurt. And he wasn’t even as awful as he should be.  I was honest and maybe him understanding you were back from the dead helped him accept it.” Her stomach flops at the memory.

“Yes, I waited around the corner, but I wish I had faced him with you. Perhaps later,” he ponders. 

 

_ Much later,  _ she thinks

 

She continues, “Then we went to dinner. Oh it was heavy at first, wasn't it?

 

“Well, you were crying a good bit,” Sherlock frowns, “But we talked, more than we have ever talked before. I know every medical journal you read through up to uni.” 

 

“I was a bit talkative but so were you,” she recalls.

 

“Yes, you know more than most at this point. Then more wine,” he adds.

 

She feels sick for a moment at the thought, “A lot of wine. Way more than I usually do.”

 

“Regretfully the same,” Sherlock grimaces. “Angelo felt sympathetic so he just kept giving us wine until you stopped crying, and after...in a congratulatory manner it changed to champagne and…”

 

He pauses, looking at her expectantly, licking his lips nervously. 

 

She sits up bolt. “Oh, God.”

 

“Yes,” he whispers.

 

“Oh, bloody hell” she whispers back. 

 

“Yeeep,” he drawls out with a pop of his ‘p’.

 

“You asked me to marry you!”, she shouts, staring at him. 

 

He laughs, “Yes!’   
  


“Sherlock, this is not funny!” she scolds.

 

He frowns, “It's a bit funny.”

 

“Sherlock, do you even know what you did, what you are doing, you did? Oh God,” she whimpers.

 

He smiles, “I am perfectly capable of understanding the gravity of our new relationship status.”

 

“Where’s my mobile?”She began panicking gripping her seat scanning the room. 

 

She rushes to the table where it sits and snatches it up. Her screen is full of notifications as she scrolls down rapidly.

 

**Congrats**

**What the hell?**

**We haven’t talked since uni but you go girl!**

 

_ Who all did she message?  _

 

“Sh-Sherlock,” she stammers,

 

“Yes, I think you went a bit zealous with messaging people, but none the less you were happy so I allowed it… also I was drunk and messaged John quite a bit. And Greg once I am sure.

He threatened me if I have hurt you, which is silly. Well, you do seem to like love bites on your thighs but that's a different kind of hurt I am sure than what he meant. Should be just happy for us after all.”

 

“Sherlock Holmes, how can you be so calm?” she grits through her teeth. 

 

“Because there is no reason to panic?” he asks incredulously.  

“Oh God, you are an idiot...and so I am I guess. I handed back the ring to one man and accepted the marriage proposal of another in a matter of hours!,” she laments. 

 

“Well it's not like i am a stranger, my love,” he replies reaching out for her hand. 

 

“My love? Look we just said I love you to each other last night,” she reminds him. 

 

He looks at her with darkened eyes as he captures her hand, “Many times” he cheekily adds “and in many ways which if you--”

 

“Are you kidding me?” she says snatching her hand away.

 

“I guess I am then,” he half pouts

 

Her face turns red now, “Oh no you don’t.”

 

“Molly, I love you, please sit,” he begs. 

 

“No! God no I need to maybe just--” she starts pacing.

 

“Get a shower, you’ll feel better” Sherlock offers.

 

“No,” she shakes her head. 

 

“Really?” he throws up his hands. 

 

“What?” she looks at him confused.

 

“I did not realize my future wife was this stubborn in the morning. Do you require coffee or tea perhaps?” he says with fluster

 

“Oh we want to start that now,” she laughs sarcastically.

 

“Start what?” he says with a similar tone. 

 

The condescension; it’s a little early...late in the day...Whatever,” she frowns. 

 

“Really, I do think you need to calm down,” he answers with a slight eye roll. 

 

She grits through her teeth as she gets right in his face pushing him back into the couch, “First lesson, never tell me to calm down ever again”

 

He sees the fire in her eyes, holding his and he gulps, “Fine. Understood.”

 

“Oh God, Sherlock what is this?” she cries out. 

“What?”

“Us!

“Well, marriage soon as you would like it I think. You were quite eager last night to find a priest or similar and just marry me then, But I luckily sobered some and convinced you of the need for more time. Perhaps because I did not want to face Mummy without a proper wedding,” he muses.

 

“Well, we could have had a big wedding later Oh God why am I saying things like this?!”

 

She screams into her hands and regrets it as her head aches immensely now

 

Sherlock looks at his mobile. “Hmm, perhaps I should put on trousers,” he murmurs, brow furrowing.

 

“Why?” she asks, her head popping up from her hands.

 

He smirks, “Despite your preference of no trousers--

 

“Sherlock! Why did you look at your mobile and say you need to put on trousers?!” she cries out. 

 

“John and Greg are on their way over,” he mumbles as he looks up at her, an eyebrow raising. 

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Yes well, apparently he is not satisfied with my explanation and thinks its a signal. Really John after all these years, now you want to be observant?” Sherlock sighs, rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest in a pout. 

 

Molly begins to pace again. She looks down, reminded that she is in his shirt, and she whimpers holding her head.

 

“I am going to get a shower I am yes that is where I am going to and I will be there awhile because yes. Ok, you take care of this,” she rambles out quickly.

 

“Can I join?”

 

“Sherlock now is not the time to be funny”

 

“I’m not being facetious. I don’t want to deal with John or Greg either,” Sherlock says rising up from a seat, almost losing his towel. 

 

She steps to him and points her finger in his chest and she wants to keep her fury but her body reacts much like it did last night. Gelatin would be stiffer than her legs and he puts his hands on her hips as he sees her begin her buckle.

 

She gulps as he does that smile, she stares at his lips as they curl up as he pulls her hips into him.

 

His lips find hers and blood rushes to her belly as his lips leave to trail down her jaw to her neck.

 

“Sherlock,” she whimpers out, biting her bottom lip.

 

“I know, my love...later,” he whispers in her ear.

 

With that he pushes her from him by her hips onto the sofa gently and sits beside her, grabbing his mobile up.

 

Her head spins now, but a deep breath sets it right.

 

“Think I’ll get that shower now,” she sighs.

 

She stands and walks away a few steps.

 

“I need my shirt,” he says in a low voice. 

 

She turns to look back at him and begins to work with the sleeves.

 

“Do you require my assistance like you did last night?” he asks, letting his full baritone ring in the air between them. There’s the smug smirk that she isn’t sure if she loves or just wants to punch him in the face for, she thinks. 

 

She holds his gaze while she pulls the shirt off over her head, and tosses it at him, which he catches one-handed against his chest.

She gives him a moment to look and she watches his eyes scan her thoroughly and she turns and walks down to her lavatory to get that shower without another word to him.

 

Her senses got the better of her for a moment, but after starting the water she remembers she needs clothes to change into, rushes into her bedroom, gathering a jumper and jeans up before returning to the lavatory.

 

In the shower, she gets the water as hot as she can stand it, and feels it clearing her head a bit.

She has a fiance still after all. This time it is bloody Sherlock Holmes.

 

“So what happens now you got everything you wanted...you wanted this right?” she whispers to herself standing out waiting for her conditioner to set. 

 

Meanwhile, Sherlock sits, letting blood work its way back to the rest of his body but does not make it back to her bedroom for his trousers before he hears the urgent banging on the door.

He walks casually to her entryway and opens the door mid-knock on purpose, causing John to almost pitch forward into the entryway.

 

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock” and “Oh bloody hell,” John and Greg say at the same time as they both see he is only wearing a towel around his waist.  

 

“Hello welcome to Molly’s flat, please ask your questions and leave my fiance and I to our business of the day...unless you have a case over a 7...maybe a 5 if I like the odds and can be done in couple hours,” Sherlock says plainly.

 

“Sherlock bloody Holmes, you got to explain what the hell is going on,” John barks, getting louder with each word.

 

“Please lower your voice to a civil level in which my hangover can withstand and I will answer your questions,” Sherlock grimaces. 

John rubs his face with his hands and Sherlock spies Greg’s bemused look

 

Sherlock gestures with his free hand, the other still on the door, for them to proceed into the sitting room. He slams the door in irritation but regrets it immediately and winches at the noise’s effect on his head. 

 

“Don’t slam my door, Sherlock,” Molly says wearily from the hall.

 

She is dressed now in her jumper from yesterday and with a clean pair of jeans at least. She shuffles into her kitchen, drying her hair with a towel. 

 

Molly feels self-conscious of all the eyes suddenly on her.

 

“Kettle?...yeah I’ll start it,” she mumbles out. 

 

Silence fell over the room as they all listen to the water come to a boil. John stands arms crossed across his chest, never taking his eyes off Sherlock.

 

Beep goes the kettle and Molly’s shoulders jump. She prepares the teapot and pours the water slowly and deliberately, watching the teabags swirl. Sherlock checks his mobile and begins typing. Greg sits back in the chair and mirrors Sherlock. John stares chin jutted out.

 

She sets up mugs on the bar counter and pours tea, and gets the last one poured before John shouts, “Sherlock!” and nearly makes her drop the teapot. She sets it down wiping her hands on her jeans and watches her fiance.

 

Sherlock sits up slowly, placing his phone beside him gently and folds his hands slowly.

 

“Whatever is the reason for your yelling, John,” Sherlock asks, irritation hanging on how he says ‘John’.

 

“You text me how you almost got married last night?! Were you just drunk or do we need a drug test?” he starts, voices raised but to Sherlock and Molly’s relief not again yelling. Sherlock opens his mouth, brow furrowing, but John cuts him off.

 

“Which we can’t trust Ms. Hooper to give it seems as she is complacent or even more likely duped in this scheme which by God better not be for a case, because if --”

 

“That’s quite enough of that! You don’t get to speak about me or for me, John Watson!” Molly bites back as she makes her way to stand behind Sherlock.

 

John looks at her finally, shock heavy across his face. Greg’s jaw drops slightly as he looks silently between everyone.

 

“You will not talk to her in that manner, John,” Sherlock says, his voice deep and eerily calm compared to the heightened emotions.

 

“You seduced her into helping fake your death so I guess this was the natural next step?” John says mockingly.

 

“Drop whatever false concern you have for me if you are capable of even that, you hardly acknowledge any of us were alive these two years,” she half laughs.

 

“Oh so I see, someone who by all accounts was just the mousy girl he used to get body parts suddenly should be my focus after losing him?” he huffs back and crosses his arms.

 

Molly squares her jaw, knowing her next words are going to cut deeper than his did. 

 

“You are just mad he trusted me to carry out his plan instead of you,” she answers letting the ice hang in her words. But inside she wants to punch him in his chin he keeps sticking out.

 

“Um yeah I am pretty damn bitter about that and I think I have every right to be,” John shouts.

 

Sherlock stands, holding his towel precariously, and locks eyes with John, “I think you need to apologize to my future wife,”

 

With that John yells “Oh really?” steps forward to Sherlock, and Sherlock squares his shoulders, yelling back “Yes you do!” Greg shoots up from his seat in between them.

 

“Alight ALRIGHT!” Greg shouts to everyone. Once he sees everyone is going to stay quiet, he begins in a lower voice. “Let’s do this proper, like police work ok? Something everyone in this room can agree on at least. Let’s go to 221b.  John gets Mary to meet us over there. She and Mrs. Hudson can interr--speak to Molly and you and I can ques--talk to Sherlock. “

 

Everyone looks at each other, like a Mexican standoff with no guns but all the ammunition. 

 

Greg looks around, his hands on his hips, “Understood now?” 

 

Sherlock turns and swallows and captures Molly gaze for a moment. She realizes now she has been breathing shallow and takes a deep breath in and nods. He mirrors her as he looks back at Greg. John throws his hands up but it's without passion and he nods in agreement as well. 

 

“And put on some trousers, Sherlock,” Greg sighs. Sherlock steps across the room cautiously and retrieves his trousers behind a chair as John looks up at the ceiling in irritation crossing his arms again.

 

“Pants?’ Sherlock says quietly as he glances at Molly, giving a tiny smile. 

 

“Bedroom,” She gulps, trying to stifle a matching smile.

 

Greg rubs his face in frustration, saying once Sherlock leaves the room, “And we are all gonna work this out when we get over there, but I am not stopping a fight in a car, so me and John will head over in my car. We’ll see you there ok?” Greg looks sympathetically at Molly. 

 

“Thank you, Greg,” She answers quietly.

 

With this, he pushes John by the shoulder toward the door and they are gone. 

 

Sherlock returns, in a much-wrinkled shirt tucked in but with trousers. He walks and finds his jacket crumpled in a corner and gathers their shoes from the door. They silently put them on, sitting on the sofa. When she lifts her head from her task she find his lips on her cheek and then her forehead. Its tender and makes her heart ache.

 

“This is an unfortunate step we must endure. Have courage. And you will love Mary, I promise,” Sherlock whispers, searching her face.

 

“The things I do for love,” she whispers.

 

With that, they both smile and walk to the door.

 

-:-

 

John and Greg arrived before the couple and prepared Mrs. Hudson and Mary for the task ahead. Mary refused to hide her giddiness at the thought of Sherlock marrying the woman who helped him fake his death and right his name. 

 

“Oh God, John it's so bloody romantic someone will make a mini-series about it!” she laughed.

 

“Mary, please take this seriously,” he exasperated.

 

She rolled her eyes when he looked away.

 

Mrs. Hudson couldn’t disguise her delight either. “I always thought he was gay but I had you both wrong. Oh Sherlock married, that is so lovely and Molly is a sweet girl…” her face fell a bit in concern. “I hope she knows all she is getting herself into.”

 

John’s face lit up, “HA! Yes, see? Finally, someone thinking logically now. That is why we are here; this is the man who has said sentiment is a defect, remember? We to find out everything that happened.”

 

Greg huffed, “Well they can leave some details out considering I had to nearly stop a fight with Sherlock only wearing a towel.

 

Mary bit her lip, and giggled “Well, maybe a few details.”

 

John sighed, “Mary, please.”

 

She opened her mouth to retort, but all eyes turned to the sound of the door opening below.

 

Sherlock enters first, hand in hand with Molly. He scans the room and finds the looks he expects. Greg? Bemusement. John? Irascible. Mary? Grinning. But he keeps his eyes on Mrs. Hudson whose eyes are glittering as her hands go up to her mouth. 

 

He looks back at Molly, sensing her mix of excitement and awkwardness, and he walks to Mrs. Hudson without dropping her hand.

 

He gives his best soft grin as he leans down and kissing her cheek. 

 

“Congratulations, Sherlock,” she whispers through a similar grin as she moves to Molly and hugs her. Molly drops his hand to hug her back.

 

Mary pats Sherlock on the shoulder as she slips past him and to Molly. 

 

“Hello, Molly. I’m Mary, John’s fiance. Wonderful to finally meet you and apparently interrogate you like a criminal about something extremely personal!” She wrinkled her nose in an over exaggerated face as she shakes Molly’s hand.

 

Molly shakes her hand and smiles at the attempt to break the ice. _ At least she understands the ridiculousness of this all, _ Molly thinks. 

 

John sighs, “Ok. Enough. Just, we want to know what happened and if everything is on the up and up.”

 

“Oh stuff it, John,” Mrs. Hudson says. “We are going to go have tea. You all get none. Well, maybe Sherlock after I talk to Molly a bit, dear.” 

 

Molly and Mary look to Martha and back to smile at each other as they follow her down the stairs. Sherlock watches Molly leave last, feeling his heart tug in a new fascinating way.  

 

Greg hunts around the room until he spies his target.

 

“I’ll have a whisky anyway, “ he grunts as he checks for a clean glass and pours two fingers worth. 

 

“Aren’t you working today?” Sherlock muses as he finds his way to his chair. 

 

Greg snickers, looking at his watch, “It’s lunch then,” he says raising his glass and taking a swig. 

 

John settles in his chair across from Sherlock, elbows on his knees. “OK from the beginning please Sherlock,” he asks earnestly.

 

“Thank you for finding a reasonable volume and tone you finally decided to use with me,” Sherlock narrows his eyes but smiles.

 

John stares but holds his tongue.

 

“Yes well beginnings are always a bit subjective; I could go back to the day that I met her but--”

 

“Please stick to the last 24 hours please,” Greg chimes in, nursing his whisky.

 

“I asked her to solve crimes with me for a day since someone else was unavailable,” he says plainly not taking his eyes off John.

 

John shifts in his seat and looks down for a moment but does not speak his thoughts.

 

Sherlock continues, “I knew she was engaged to another man but I felt compelled to thank her for her aid in my redemption. My debt to her part will forever be outstanding, but I could offer that friendship again we had started. In the hallway after the last casework of the day, I asked her to go have chips. Not sure why, but she then decided to tell me about her fiance. Clearly, the lines were being drawn and I had no intention of crossing them,” he explains, then fidgets in his seat.

 

“I planned to kiss her cheek, much like you two have witnessed before.”

 

Greg half laughs, but censors it when both John and Sherlock shoot him a look. He swallows, “I’m gonna just guess you didn’t land the kiss on the cheek then?”

 

“Perceptive. There is hope for Scotland Yard,” Sherlock smirks.

 

“What happened?’ John asks with a look of confusion.

 

“ John your chronic level of non-observance needs to be studied, medically I believe,” Sherlock scoffs

 

John stares, chin jutted out as he folds his arms.

 

“I kissed her on the lips,” Sherlock says with an eye roll.

 

“What?” 

 

-:-

 

“I mean, what happened next?” Mary presses as she tops off Molly’s tea.

 

“Well, it was quite a nice kiss…” Molly says biting her lip.

 

Mary and Martha give her a look.

 

“OK it was the best kiss of my entire life,’ she grins shyly. “And we really didn’t want to stop. He said ‘ My lips have found yours, and I wish for them to always be mine to possess’.  ”

 

Mary nods happily as she leans back in her chair. Martha grins softly to herself.

 

Martha furrows her brow, “But where did it all go from there?”

 

Molly shrugs,”He basically said we go to dinner and find a way let Tom down easy.”

 

Mary smiles, “Well at least he was honorable in that.” 

 

Martha nods, “Sherlock is awful about some things but he is honorable. That sounds in his character.”

 

“Ok do go on, we’ll not interrupt. I want all the details,” Mary says earnestly as she sips her tea.

 

Molly takes a deep breath, “Ok, well, things get complicated from that point on.”

 

-:-

 

“How complicated?” John asks.

 

Sherlock folds his fingers, “She went to see Tom, and I stayed a distance away for safety reasons.”

 

Greg smiles, “Yeah if I was Tom I would’ve punched you in the nose.”

 

Sherlock takes a deep breath through his nose, “And yes, I have had enough of that lately,” as he looks at John sheepishly sinking in his chair.

 

“Anyway, so she broke up with him and then you went to dinner?” Greg asks.

 

Sherlock turns his head, “Precisely, and Angelos took pity on her crying so much that he kept us supplied with copious amounts of wine.”

 

“And you got drunk too?” John raises his eyebrow.

 

“Again, genius deducing there considering I am still recovering from a hangover,” Sherlock rolls his eyes.

 

Greg smirks, “ That explains the texts then.”

 

-:-

 

“Yes. I’m sorry if I text you, Mrs.Hudson,” Molly sighs.

 

“Oh don’t worry about it dear, it didn’t wake me up...too much,” she smiles faintly. 

 

Mary takes a deep breath, “So now drunk, starting with red wine and you switched to champagne?”

 

Molly nods slowly, staring at her teacup to focus her mind on the memory recall.

 

“It changed to champagne after he asked me to marry him,” she mumbles as she bites her bottom lip.

 

Mary bites her own lip to keep from squealing as she rests her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. 

 

“What did he say?” Mary asks with restraint.

 

Molly searches her mind to recall the words.

 

-:-

 

“I don’t remember exactly now, the champagne will do that for you,” Sherlock furrows his brow but it creeps into a smile. “I know I said ‘the only body I want to study is hers from this point on’.”

 

Greg and John groan in sync.

 

Sherlock barks back, “Look, I was drunk. Not exactly at my most eloquent, but the sentiment was true.”

 

-:-

 

“Aww!” Martha and Mary squeal in sync.

 

Molly blushes, ”I mean not everything he said was the most eloquent. But he promised to always come home to me, because I was his home. And even got down on his knees.”

 

Martha wipes a tear from her eye, “Oh good on you, Sherlock.”

 

“I knew I liked him,” Mary smiles warmly.

 

“But you texted me something about a priest?” Martha frowns.

 

-:-

 

“Ah yes,” Sherlock sighs, “Molly was a bit drunker than I. Though thank goodness we snogged for probably about half an hour near a street corner. Took her mind off a priest.”

 

John shakes his head, “Small miracles.”

 

“Yes well as much as she wanted to get married then, my mind had sobered enough to know that would be unwise.”

 

“But still hanging onto the idea that being engaged is perfectly wise” John sneers.

 

Perhaps the whisky had really kicked in, because Greg groans at John, “ Leave him alone about that.”

 

With indignation, John looks at Greg, half laughing, “ Really? You got no more questions, copper?”

 

Greg grins back, “Nope. If they did all they did and still want to get married, then let them.”

 

John nods but it’s clearly not in agreement. 

 

“Ok...ok,” he sighs in the first sign of defeat in his voice. “Skipping ahead, what about your life Sherlock? Your enemies? What you are exposing her to by marrying her?”

 

Sherlock pauses, knowing John’s concern is less for her than what torture would do to him if he truly loves Molly. 

 

_ And he isn’t wrong, _ he thinks.

 

He takes a deep breath, contemplating those thoughts and shoving them aside, “She is already exposed to my enemies by helping me escape and fake my own death. Something awful can happen to any of us in the next hour without enemies. What then do we do with our desires and hearts then if they can be broken anyway?”

 

“Ignoring it used to be your philosophy,” John says gently, starting to crack seeing the emotions run across his friend’s face.

 

“I was wrong, something even I can be, John,” Sherlock earnestly says to John holding his stare. “You are choosing a similar path.”

 

-:-

 

“Look, I know what you are feeling,” Mary says, holding Molly’s now crying stare. “I know the risks and the rewards may end up costing me a lot. But I love John. You love Sherlock. You’ve loved him for a long time, haven’t you?”

 

Molly wipes her eyes, “Since we first met, well, I was attracted but yes, it didn’t matter what he said or did, I could see him. The sadness that he bottles up. I just wanted to make him smile in spite of whatever it did to me. Not sure that is healthy,” she laughs sadly.

 

Martha laughs with her, “Love is the most healthy thing for you both. Keep seeking it out and you’ll be fine. Enjoy it while you have it dear, none of us are promised tomorrow.”

 

Molly’s face scrunches up, “ But what if this isn’t real? What if its a case or he just changed his mind? I--”

 

“Then we’ll kill him,” Mary and Martha say at the same time, and then side glance curiously at each other. 

 

Molly stares wide-eyed at the two women, and Mary laughs, “We are kidding Molly dear...mostly.”

 

Martha squints a bit.

 

“Honey, these are normal feelings and valid worries as far as Sherlock Holmes is concerned. Hell, I have a few of the same about John Watson. But it seems to me like all Sherlock really needed to settle his mind was to kiss you. No, I am afraid you are stuck with him now,” Mary smirks, taking Molly’s hand in her in reassurance.

 

“What do we do now?” Molly asks.

 

-:-

 

John gulps and looks down at his lap and to the side. 

 

Greg starts texting on his phone, and breaks the quiet between friends, “I’m gonna tell the ladies to come up here. I think the rest can be said with all present.”

 

With that, they all turn their heads to the door as the sound of light footsteps on the stairs cut through the silence. 

 

Mary opens the door, Martha following. Sherlock sits up tall as Molly comes into the room.

 

His face lights up, eyes bright, though it sinks in concern he can see the redness around her eyes. 

 

But her grin, though delayed, creeps into her tight lips. He breathes in relief. All eyes are on the two as he pushes past Mary to take Molly’s hand and leads her to the sofa where he sits beside her. Both gulp, lacing fingers as they look back at their friends watching them.

 

Greg gives a content smile as Mrs. Hudson pulls a chair near him. She pats his shoulder and exchanges a similar smile with him. Mary sits on the arm of John’s chair and nudges him none too subtly.

 

John slants his eyes at her but clears his throat. 

 

“Molly, I think you and I will have to talk in the future...but for now, I give my most heartfelt congratulations,” he smiles genuinely. “If you love him and if he loves you as he has told me...I can’t be anything but overjoyed for you both.”

 

With this Mary claps her hands, “How about champagne to celebrate?”

 

Molly and Sherlock both shout “No thank you!” and the room erupts with laughter. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU I know!  
> I started this one the end of last month so it took a bit.  
> Hope you enjoyed it.  
> Thanks Mouse9 for moral support.


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